


Blue and Black (not white and gold)

by lellabeth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Don't Judge Me, M/M, author has a lot of feelings, author regrets everything, yes it's really about that dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lellabeth/pseuds/lellabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint looked at Phil, dumbfounded. Phil was educated, intelligent. Phil had been to college and had near-perfect vision (though he wore reading glasses just to drive Clint crazy). And Phil was really, really wrong.</p><p>Clint held his phone up for Phil to see the picture again. “The dress is blue.”</p><p>Phil squinted. “It’s white, Clint.”</p><p>Clint stared at the dress.</p><p>Then back at Phil.</p><p>Then back at the dress.</p><p>“It’s BLUE.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue and Black (not white and gold)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, guys.

For all that Clint was known to his friends as somewhat immature (the prank war between him and Bucky hadn’t helped that reputation at all), he was still what he liked to think of as a stone-cold badass. Sometimes when he walked, he imagined how he’d look in slow motion, how there’d be drums crashing in the background as he swaggered around SHIELD HQ. He prided himself on looking calm and collected and generally deadly at all times, scaring the baby agents into submission.

Which is why, if asked, he’d deny that he ever snorted while looking at this phone right there in the middle of the mess hall.

“Something funny?” Phil asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked at Clint.

“There’s this dress thing.” Clint swung his phone around to show the picture to Phil. “And people are arguing over the color of it. It’s pretty funny how seriously they’re all taking it.”

“I’ll never understand what amuses people. And I don’t get the argument about it.”

“Right? Fuckin’ dumb if you ask me. I’m not exactly the sharpest arrow in the quiver, and I can tell the color just fine.”

Phil forked some of the radioactive-looking mac’n’cheese into his mouth while nodding his head. Clint thought he looked like an adorable, suit-wearing hamster.

He was so gone for this man.

Or he was, until the next words came out of Phil’s mouth.

“It’s clearly white.”

“What?”

“The dress. It’s white.”

Clint looked at Phil, dumbfounded. Phil was educated, intelligent. Phil had been to college and had near-perfect vision (though he wore reading glasses just to drive Clint crazy). And Phil was really, really wrong.

Clint held his phone up for Phil to see the picture again. “The dress is blue.”

Phil squinted. “It’s white, Clint.”

Clint stared at the dress.

Then back at Phil.

Then back at the dress.

“It’s BLUE.”

Phil sighed. “Yes, okay, honey. It’s blue.”

“No,” Clint said. “No, don’t— you don’t actually think it’s blue. You just know I think it’s blue and I won’t shut up about it until you think it’s blue too, but it doesn’t count if you don’t  _actually_  think it’s blue and are just pretending. Okay?”

“Did you suddenly become a hundred times more neurotic while I was on that last mission?”

“I’ve always been like this.” Clint shook his head. “That’s not the point.”

“I still think it’s white.”

"Phil,” he said, nicely. Calmly. Kind of. “I have the best vision of a human ever to be recorded, okay? I can spot a hostile from miles away just by a shift in the sand or a split-second of motion. I can take down targets that spring up in my peripheral vision in less than it takes most people to blink. I’ve caught every knife Nat’s ever thrown at me. So trust me when I say the dress is FUCKING BLUE AND BLACK."

Phil blinked.

And then he smirked.

He was totally, undoubtedly riling Clint on purpose.

Clint loved it.

“Blue and black, huh?”

“Yes, asshole.” Clint nudged Phil’s knee with his own under the table. "Now can we just shut up and never speak of this again?"

Phil stared at him, at his flared nostrils and wide eyes and clenched fists, and he leaned forward over the table. “Make me.”

There was a glint in his eye that said more than a smirk on his face ever could, and Clint could only watch as Phil licked his lips before standing and walking away from their table.

Clint closed down the picture of the definitely blue, definitely black dress and took a minute to carefully clean up all his trash. Then he stood up, picked up his bow case, and walked toward the elevators leading to Phil’s office.

Time to make his husband pay.


End file.
